


Blackmail

by VayceThreyvaCeciliaHoldshire1726



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Blackmail, Dark, M/M, Sheriarty smut, Smut, a bit of bdsm, pain and pleasure
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-11-04
Packaged: 2018-08-24 12:51:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8372914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VayceThreyvaCeciliaHoldshire1726/pseuds/VayceThreyvaCeciliaHoldshire1726
Summary: Sherlock is tempted to kiss Jim and does so at the police department while he is unconscious. A month later he gets his payback as Jim blackmails him with photos he got of this and can do anything he wants to the detective later.





	1. Your desires always call out for payback

_Jim was unconscious. The others were in the front room. Nobody would ever know. So Sherlock gave in to his desires. He leaned down and placed a kiss on Jim's lips. He had just wanted to get a taste, to know what it would feel like. This man with the mind that might have been equal of his own, with a face of such a perfection that it was tempting him, what would it be like to kiss him?_

_It wasn't that exciting after all, Sherlock had had to realize to his own disappointment. Would it have been any different if the one he had shared this with wouldn't have been unconscious? Probably. Sherlock could imagine that Jim was a demanding and passionate kisser. When he let go again, he still stayed there for a while. He was observing Jim's features and knew what things the man who laid in front of him, as peaceful as he might have seemed in this exact moment, was capable of._

_It was like a month later that Sherlock was reminded on this fact. John had gone out and after a while of thinking he decided to get up and make himself some tea. Self-evidently this tea was never made, for instead of going to the kitchen, the detective was distracted by an envelope that had been passed through under the door. After seeing what was inside he left immediately. He had an appointment that he couldn't miss._

* * *

 

Sherlock took a deep breath. He definitely didn't want to do this, meeting up with Jim. Moriarty, to be exact. There was no reason at all to call him by his first name. But he knocked. Finally. How bad could this become? Ji... Moriarty never got his hands dirty. He wouldn't touch him or anything. He'd probably have him do some dirty work for him, force him to give away governmental secrets.

Then the door was opened by the man who looked so devilishly handsome in his Westwood suit. He wore a smirk on his lips that really wasn't difficult to read; he was up to something, and this something would be very enjoyable - at least for the consulting criminal.


	2. The deal

“Sherlock! What an unexpected pleasure! What brings you here, my dear?”

The door wasn't completely opened, and so Moriarty stood in it's shadow, looking fantastically mysterious.

“You know that very well”, Sherlock replied, lifting the envelope. This wasn't just any kind of game. Those pictures... they could ruin everything. The way John saw him. He didn't really care about the outside world, if they thought he was an ally to England's enemy number one, but John...

Moriarty made no move to let the detective inside, he was waiting. Sherlock rolled his eyes and sighed.

“You called me here and obviously will offer me a deal which I have to give into if I don't want these published.”

“Welcome to my modest little home!”, Moriarty smiled and stepped aside.

They walked through a big hallway which was flanked by a staircase of indescribable beauty. It fitted the whole furnishing which was either old or meant to look like it. What was made clear by this was Moriarty's love for the pompous things, for the golden era and class. A highly interesting deduction.

Sherlock was led into the living room, he was handed a drink in one of those crystal like glasses.

“Sit down, will you?”, Jim offered his guest a seat and while the detective did sit down, the criminal kept standing and looked down on his victim. There was no better word to describe it. Sherlock had finally made a mistake, had stepped into a trap that Jim himself couldn't have thought of and now he was at his mercy.

“So. What do you want?”

“Oh Sherlock, are we being impatient?”, Jim smirked in his sing-sang-voice, “We can't do it like this... I want you to enjoy the game too!” He pouted and walked closer to Sherlock, stopping very shortly in front of him. “What do you think I want?”, he grinned now, looking down on him in a threatening way, his voice full of sexual tension. But if his little innocent opponent would notice?

Sherlock looked at the man in front of him, tried to figure what he was up to. Those dark, endless eyes seemed to swallow him and he couldn't deny that his heart beat faster.

“Powerplay”, he answered, not yet willing to take the inferior role, “You want to be in charge, you'll probably humiliate me.”

Jim lifted an amused eyebrow and backed off a bit. Powerplay was a nice way to describe it. That would exactly be what he would do.

“I already am”, he smirked, but that didn't stop his voice from sounding demanding, “I want you to understand that. I am in charge and you will have to do exactly as I say.”

He turned around, but didn't get the expected answer. Tz, tz, tz. He'd have to teach him a good behaviour.

“Do. You. Understand?”

“Yes”, Sherlock replied, he was a bit scared now though. He knew that Jim was unpredictable, but this was different from before. Maybe he wouldn't just have him do a job...

“Good”, Jim turned away again and walked towards a wardrobe. He kept all his precious toys there. “You'll really like this. I'm going to teach you something you don't know yet. I'll show you something new.” He opened the door in a way that Sherlock couldn't look inside and thought just a second about what they should start with. This would be an extra special something. Letting Sherlock know that he had followed him for longer than he knew, that he wasn't in control at all.

"We'll start with the riding crop", he grinned, having chosen those words on purpose and enjoying the surprise on Sherlock's face as he turned around and held the crop in his hands.

“Now, undress yourself”, Moriarty demanded with an expecting smirk.

 

                                                                                                                   


End file.
